First Night
by NovelistServant
Summary: The night of a wedding.


The night of their wedding was long and busy, so much happening at once that Stanford and Hephzibah wondered if they would even remember their wedding day years later as something more than a hectic whirl. Many of the guests left around seven o'clock and Shermie's family, Fiddleford, and Madeline went to their hotel rooms a little later. Since Filbrick took the car after he stormed out of the wedding, Ma needed a ride home, so Grandpa offered to drive her. That left Stanley, Hephzibah, and Stanford alone and they enjoyed swapping stories over drinks at the hotel's bar. It was then that the married couple asked Stanley to move in with them and he agreed to join them on their journey to Gravity Falls in the morning. Until then, Stanley went to bed, leaving Stanford and Hephzibah alone.

The suite in which Stanford had gotten ready for the wedding was still booked until tomorrow morning, which meant it was theirs to use for whatever they saw fit.

Stanford closed the door and turned slowly to face his wife, who still wore her beautiful wedding dress, her dreadlocks up in a bun and pinned with a comb that had held a veil that went down her neck, but Hephzibah had removed it to dance freely. She grinned at Stanford and admired his appearance in his tuxedo, his red tie still intact and a matching smile on his face. They met in the middle, their arms locking each other close, and kissed deeply. The alcohol must have gotten to them, because while they were usually slow and steady, tonight they quickly escalated.

Hephzibah held her husband by the sides of his face, his sideburns grazing her fingertips, as she overlapped and relapped with his soft lips. Stanford had his arms around her waist and holding her so close it was like she might sink into him. They separated slowly, intoxicated by the steamy kiss and by the jitters that were seeping in. When their eyes opened, Hephzibah saw a bit of fear in Stanford's eyes.

She slowly ran her fingers through his hair and whispered, "Are ya nervous?"

Stanford thought about when Hephzibah had asked him when they danced together. He had said that he had been nervous for so long he had forgotten what it was like to not be nervous, and when his initial feeling was nervousness, when he felt how gentle her lips were, when he saw how much love was in her eyes, when he heard her reassuring voice, he suddenly wasn't so nervous.

Stanford moved a hand from her hip to the side of her face and cupped it in his six-fingered hand. He glided his thumb over her cheek softly and whispered, "No."

Hephzibah smiled at him and kissed his cheek slowly, then his cleft chin, and then his lips. Before Stanford could return the kiss, Hephzibah separated and pulled him by the hand to the king-sized bed. She playfully shoved him on, chuckling, and Stanford returned the smile as he laid on his back and moved away from the edge to give Hephzibah some room to work with, trusting that she had an idea. Hephzibah sat on the edge of the bed and took his right hand into her left, entangling their fingers, and she used her free hand to brush the side of his face. Stanford closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into her gentle touch, the back of her hand smoothing his skin, going from the rim of his glasses to his chin slowly. That was one thing that was constant with Hephzibah; she was slow and allowed them both to take their time and enjoy it.

Hephzibah smiled as she admired how handsome he was. It was honestly a little sad that Stanford didn't see what she saw, but Hephzibah had made it her life's mission to make sure he learned just how amazing and handsome and special he was to her. She tenderly kissed his lips, still petting the side of his head, and he kissed back. Hephzibah gave his right hand a squeeze, and when they separated, Hephzibah went back to admiring Stanford's appearance for a moment. She was about to kiss every inch of his face when he saw where his eyes had averted to. Stanford was looking down at their held hands that laid by his right side. Hephzibah's smile went away when she could easily guess that he was counting his fingers again. A little harder to do with five dark-skinned fingers in between, but sure enough, one, two, three, four, five, six. There was always six.

Hephzibah smiled a little. "Hey." She said so quietly, barely a whisper, and Stanford looked back up at her. Her right hand, the hand cupping the left side of his face, moved down to his chin to gently hold it. "I love you, which means I love every part of you." She whispered to him, and to prove it, she sat up a bit and held up Stanford's hand. Their fingers still entangled, she kissed all six of his fingers steadily, even kissing the tip of his thumb to send the message home.

Stanford smiled with a trembling lip and he slowly sat up to make getting undressed easier. When Hephzibah was finished kissing his right hand, she took his left hand and did the same. Stanford's gut squirmed when she did this. It was an odd feeling, having her lips on his fingers, but the feeling in his gut came more from the intention behind her actions. How many times was Stanford bullied for his rare birth-defect? How many times did someone not want to touch his hands in fear of getting the plague? It was different when Stanley called him "Sixer" or when Hephzibah suggested that he was really good at something because of his extra fingers, because their intentions behind it were genuine. Now, here, the woman that Stanford had fallen in love with was going to do everything she could to prove to him that she loved him, and loved every part of him, even the parts of himself he often hated.

Unwilling to not return the favor, when Hephzibah was done kissing his left hand, the hand that bore his wedding ring, his most prized possession, Stanford leaned forward and kissed her. Hephzibah returned the kiss, sat on his lap with a leg on either side of his, and continued on her personal mission. Without breaking their kiss or opening her eyes, she undid Stanford's tie and tossed it aside. When Hephzibah grabbed the sides of his jacket, Stanford helped wiggle himself free from it and it joined the tie on the carpeted floor. They finally broke their kiss and Hephzibah undid the first button of his dress-shirt. When she worked on the second one, she glanced up to find a little bit of nervousness in Stanford's eyes. Was he also self-conscious about his body? That was something Hephzibah could relate to. But the fear was miniscule and when Stanford saw that she was looking at him, he smiled and gave her a quick kiss to tell her to keep going.

Hephzibah worked her way down a little more quickly and only stopped when all the buttons were undone. She stared at his bare chest and even gently touched it with her fingertips, making Stanford shiver, and she became lost in his appearance once again. Stanford noticed this and actually chuckled, breaking her stare. The way her eyes turned glossy when she looked at him and the way her mouth opened slightly, no one had ever looked at him like that before. Why would they? But clearly Hephzibah saw something she liked, and if it made her happy then she could look all she wanted. For as much as Hephzibah had made it her life's mission to make Stanford feel loved, he had made it his to make sure that she was happy and taken care of.

When Hephzibah heard his chuckling, she glanced up at him and blushed. Stanford took her hand and kissed it to try to reassure her without words. It must have worked, because once he let go, Hephzibah leaned down, almost lying on him like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, and she kissed his chin, then the top of his neck and then the base of his neck, making him look up, then she sprinkled kisses all over the top of his chest, taking her time and somewhere between a quick peck and a deep kiss. Stanford's breath was hitched. It was just kisses on his upper chest, so why did it feel so good?! It didn't make sense, but maybe it wasn't supposed to make sense. Was he allowed to moan? Would it be weird to moan? Did she want him to moan? No, don't think, just act. Hephzibah then kissed a little lower, right over his gut, and Stanford looked upward to let out a deep breath that had been caught in his throat. Encouraged that she was doing the right thing, Hephzibah continued to kiss his chest, working downward teasingly and then coming back up. Stanford was breathing heavy, his heart racing, and he even breathed his wife's name.

Hephzibah paused her kissing and helped him out of his dress-shirt to see his upper-half fully exposed. After a moment of staring at his arms and chest, she leaned forward for a kiss, which Stanford happily obliged. Hephzibah placed a hand on his left shoulder while they kissed and trailed it downward to squeeze his bicep and feel his arm. The kiss deepened for a moment until Hephzibah steadily moved from Stanford's mouth to his cheek and up to his ear to whisper.

"I love you, Stanford."

Stanford was almost complete mush at this point. "I love you, Hephzibah, so much." He replied quietly and wrapped his free right arm up and around her shoulders, pulling her closer onto his chest.

Hephzibah laid almost fully on top of him, apart from her head which she kept up to kiss him. Stanford deepened the kiss and started to take charge. He wanted to love Hephzibah just as much, if not more, as she had loved him. Stanford had been sliding down, almost lying down but elevated by the thick pillows, and so he slowly sat up and put his hands on her shoulders. They broke the kiss so Stanford could undress his wife, but he paused when he saw her dress. How the hell was he supposed to take this off her in a sexy way? The dress was a bit low cut, sure, but the sleeves were long and made of what looked like fragile lace. Was there a zipper in the back? Why did wedding dresses have to be more complicated than a tux?

Hephzibah saw Stanford's confusion and chuckled good-naturally at him. He smiled and blushed slightly. Hephzibah reached up and unpinned her bun, letting her skinny dreadlocks fall with a little shake of her head and she sat the comb on the nightstand. She took off her silver earrings and placed them by the comb. Stanford leaned forward and kissed her, his strong hands running up and down her back. As far as he could tell, there was no zipper and it seemed that if Hephzibah slipped her arms out of the dress it would fall easily to her waist. Without breaking their long, steamy kiss, Stanford moved his hands to one arm and helped Hephzibah slid it out from the tight lace. When the second arm was done, Stanford backed away from the kiss to properly see her as he had the top half of the long wedding dress fall around her waist.

Hephzibah's arms and stomach were exposed, but her breasts were still covered by her bra. Stanford had seen her in a one-piece bathing suit before, but this was the most of her body he had gotten to see uncovered, and it was beautiful. Much like Hephzibah, Stanford took a minute just to look at her. In his eyes she was perfect. The way she didn't meet his gaze told Stanford that she was insecure, too. He smiled kindly at that. She may not have six fingers, but she was still a little worried that her husband might not like what he sees. Well, time to show her that not only did he like what he saw, he loved what we saw.

"Hephzibah," He breathed as he awed at her. "You're… you're…" He tried to say it, but his throat felt tight, so he swallowed, making his Adam's Apple bobble.

Hephzibah was stunned for a moment, blushing and staring at him with shining eyes, but then she smiled and giggled under her breath, kissed his lips one more time, and then slipped off of him and to the edge of the bed. Stanford watched, curious, and saw her unbuckle her heels and let them sit next to the bed. Bare feet on the carpet, Hephzibah stood and turned so her husband could see her dress slip off of her fully, leaving the bride in her underwear. Stanford swallowed and felt his face turn red. Sweet Lord, how can a woman be so beautiful?! What had Stanford been missing his entire life?!

"Hephzibah." Stanford breathed once more. There was something in the way he said her name, like how that word was the most glorious thing to grace his voice and pass through his lips, like he was saying the name of a queen or a goddess, like if he had to pick only one word to use for the rest of his life he would pick her name.

Hephzibah chuckled and asked intimidatingly, "Like what ya see?"

Stanford gave her a crooked smile. "Love it. I love you. I love you, Hephzibah."

"I love you, too." She replied and crawled back up on the bed.

Hephzibah sat on Stanford's lap again and they kissed again with his hands on her back. After running them up and down her naked, slender back, Stanford found the clip of Hephzibah's bra. He tried to undo it, but he was struggling. The kiss became less passionate as Stanford became more distracted and Hephzibah tried not to giggle at her husband's struggle.

Hephzibah broke their kiss and asked, "Do ya want me to…"

"No." Stanford interrupted her firmly. "I think I… Holy Moses, did they attach a Cubic's Cube to the back of this thing?!"

Hephzibah laughed and Stanford allowed himself to smile. Finally, the clip came loose and he let out a victorious "Ah, HA!" as the article of clothing slipped off his wife, but he was soon made silent as he saw her naked front. It was like Stanford was seeing her for the first time. Not that he had ever seen naked breasts before - let's get that out of the way - but he immediately allowed himself to have the naive thought that no one compared to her beauty. Hephzibah waited for his judgement or his reaction, his only one being huge, sparkling eyes and a hanging jaw. She may not be as self-conscious about her body as Stanford was, but she didn't think very highly of her body, as most people seem to, so she held her arms and blushed as she looked away.

The minute Stanford saw that he was determined to reassure his wife that she was perfect, possibly more than perfect, in his eyes. Stanford raised a hand, but then clenched it and rubbed his fingers with his thumb, unsure if Hephzibah even wanted to be touched. Hephzibah saw how nervous and amazed he was and she wondered how in the world she managed to do that. Did she even do that? Stanford unclenched his hand and slowly took one of Hephzibah's hands, the one holding her arm. He held her hand with both hands, kissed it, and gently rubbed one hand down her arm and to her shoulder. Hephzibah allowed him to pull her closer and they kissed again. Hephzibah was soon lying on Stanford's right side as he held her tenderly and kissed her. She was up by her elbow, as he sat on the bed and was above her, and when they broke their kiss, he seemed unsure of what to do. He knew what he wanted, but he was unsure if she wanted it.

But Hephzibah trusted Stanford. "Put your hands on me, Ford." She breathed, so quiet Stanford almost missed it over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

They resumed their kiss. Stanford moved his hand from down her shoulder to her breast and gently squeezed. Hephzibah's breath hitched and when Stanford squeezed again, she actually had to turn away from the kiss to breathe properly. Encouraged, Stanford advanced and had Hephzibah lay on her back. Not wanting to crush her, he sat on her left side still, but kissed her neck and shoulders as he massaged her tender breast. Hephzibah moaned more than when Stanford was shocked from how her kisses made him feel. He understood that feeling Hephzibah had, how each moan of satisfaction, how each quiet call of their spouse's name, how each breath that was delayed or held was a sign that what they were doing was right and that it was satisfying their loved ones in a way they deserved.

Hephzibah obviously didn't have the same fear that Stanford had, of him crushing her, because she was pulling him on top of her. Stanford couldn't deny her, and so he sat on her lap with each leg on either side of her. He wondered if he would ever be able to say no to her ever again. Stanford continued to kiss her and massage her, all while she moaned, breathed, and occasionally kissed Stanford on the top of his head if he ever got close enough. Soon Stanford's kisses got lower, kissing her chest, her stomach, her sides, every inch of her while his hand massaged her. Hephzibah breathed her husband's name and Stanford felt like a lion was roaring with pride in his chest. Hephzibah started to arch her back upward and Stanford wasn't just lightly sitting on her anymore; he was firm, strong, and hard.

Stanford let go of Hephzibah's breast after massaging both of them and he stopped kissing her to sit up. His eyes glued to her big grin, he started to unbuckle his belt.

* * *

This wasn't the first time the two had shared a bed, either.

Their first time wasn't when Hephzibah got drunk and wanted Stanford to sleep by her side. Their first time wasn't in the hotel room they shared when they to Backupsmore's orientation and decided to leave the second bed alone and try sleeping together. That's it. Sleeping. Their first time sharing a bed was when they were nine-years-old.

Ma had gotten a call that her brother, Jack, was in a hospital in New York and she desperately needed to see him. Sherman was at a sleepover at a friend's house when the Pines family got the call, so he was taken care of, but what were Ma and Pa supposed to do with the twins? Ma didn't want to take them to New York, even though they begged to go see Uncle Jack, and while they guessed they could ask Sherman's friend, Daniel, if Stanford and Stanley could join them, Hephzibah, who had been sitting with the twins and watching TV with them when the phone call happened, invited her best friends to spend the night at her house. At first, Ma and Pa turned the offer down, but after giving it a second thought and talking it over with Hephzibah's grandparents, they agreed to let Stanley and Stanford spend the night at the Cece household above Pianos For People.

Grandma and Grandpa did everything they could to make the twins feel better, worried about their uncle, but their troubles were soon forgotten when Hephzibah played with them. Stanley and Stanford had each brought over one toy and Hephzibah had some toys to play with. Stanford brought a deck of cards and Stanley brought Battle Shoots and Ladder Ships. They spent the rainy afternoon playing on the floor of Hephzibah's bedroom until Grandma called for dinner. They had yummy spaghetti and garlic bread, and Grandma made a special blueberry pie, because that was the twins' favorite flavor of pie. After dinner, Grandpa pulled out Helen the viola and played any song the kids wanted. Hephzibah even got Stanford and Stanley to dance to Grandpa's music, and after the dishes were done, Grandma danced with them, too.

When it was bedtime, the twins changed into their PJs and Hephzibah went into her bedroom for the night. Stanley and Stanford slept in sleeping bags in the living room and Grandma Cece even gave them each a kiss on the forehead to sooth them for the night. It was still raining, but it wasn't scary. Stanley and Stanford fell asleep and stayed that way until Stanford had a nightmare and woke up to the sound of thunder and lightning. The sounds didn't scare him, but the nightmare had.

"Ford?"

Stanford slipped on his glasses and turned to the kitchen. The Cece apartment was like the Pines apartment in which the living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one big room. In the dark, Stanford could see Hephzibah by the fridge with a cup of water in her hand. She was wearing a white lacy nightgown, her frizzy hair sticking up everywhere. She put the cup in the sink and went to her friend.

"What's wrong?" She whispered so Stanley wouldn't wake up.

"I had a nightmare." Stanford admitted shamefully and looked down, still sitting in his sleeping bag.

If they were at home, Stanford would just go back to sleep. If Stanley were awake, he would talk and talk until Stanford fell asleep, but Stanley wasn't awake and they weren't at home and Uncle Jack was really sick and Ma and Pa weren't here and Stanford didn't know what to do!

Hephzibah was smart (at least that's what Grandpa always told her) and she could tell that one of her best friends were upset, so she did what her Grandpa did whenever she was upset. Hephzibah took Stanford's hand and pulled him up. "C'mon. I have an idea."

Stanford trusted his friend, so he followed her down the hall and into her bedroom. It was smaller than his bedroom back home, but his room felt smaller with the walls cluttered with toys and clothes and the bunk beds. Hephzibah's room was clean with a wardrobe for clothes, a toy chest, and a nightstand and an old bed with white rails. Hephzibah let go of Stanford's hand when they reached the bed, sat on the side closest to the wall, and patted the spot next to her.

"Grandpa says bein' with someone ya like makes bad dreams go away."

Stanford smiled. That made sense. When he and Stanley were younger, sometimes they'd share a bed, but they were big kids now, too big for stuff like that, but no one would ever know about this if they were careful and, though Stanford knew this probably wasn't allowed, he was really tired and really scared right now and he just wanted a friend.

Stanford climbed into Hephzibah's bed and put his glasses on her nightstand. He laid down and Hephzibah crawled to the foot of her bed quickly to get her second pillow, which was usually just for decoration, but she decided to use it so Stanford could have her pillow. They laid on their sides, facing each other, and Hephzibah covered her mouth as she giggled.

"Ya look like Stan."

Stanford rolled his eyes. "I wonder why." He whispered sarcastically.

Hephzibah giggled a little more, and then closed her eyes to try to sleep. Stanford tried to do the same, but he still felt scared and worried. If the boy was being honest, he wanted a hug, but he was nine-years-old and too big to be asking for hugs. At least that's what Pa said. Hephzibah opened her eyes and looked sleepily at her friend. Even with his eyes closed, he looked unsettled. Hephzibah saw his right hand lying by his head and she gently took it and squeezed it, guessing that he wanted a hug but wouldn't want one from her, so she settled with holding his hand.

Stanford's eyes flew open when Hephzibah held his hand. She smiled at him. Stanford couldn't help but smile back. Ma said that most girls were "insightful", meaning they knew what people were thinking or feeling without anyone saying so. Stanford knew that people thought he was the smartest, but sometimes he thought that Hephzibah was the smartest.

"Thanks." He whispered and closed his eyes.

"G'night." Hephzibah yawned as she closed her eyes.

"Night."

They, thankfully, woke up before anyone else and went to play Go Fishing at the dining room table until breakfast. They kept last night a secret and eventually forgot it even happened.

* * *

Now, thirteen years later, they laid in bed again, side by side and holding hands, their fingers entangled, their hair frazzled, and their skin coated in sparkling sweat.

Hephzibah was on the right side of the bed, her husband on her left, her naked body covered by the covers of the hotel bed to help her calm down for sleep, but her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing was heavy. Stanford had his toned chest exposed by the blankets, too hot to fully cover for sleep just yet, and he laid with wide eyes, awe-struck over what he had just done with his wife.

For awhile, their breathing was the only sound in the dimly lit room, the lamps on the nightstand the only source of light in the late early-July night. At one point, Stanford turned his head to look at Hephzibah and she did the same to look at him. They looked nothing like the actors after sex in the movies. They were red-faced, sweaty, hot, and decorated with messy hair, dreadlocks that couldn't be tamed and fluffy brown hair that did what it wanted. And yet, they had never seen anyone more beautiful than their spouse. They could have said a million things, but in the end they had nothing to say.

Still holding hands, Hephzibah cupped Stanford's face and kissed his lips one more time. He returned the kiss happily, and when they parted, Hephzibah turned off one lamp while Stanford turned off the other and removed his glasses. Hephzibah then laid on her husband's side, curled a little as she always did for sleep, and Stanford wrapped his arm around her and kiss her forehead goodnight.

Stanford would later swear on his life that he had never slept so well than on that first night with his wife.


End file.
